


Fortune Favours the Brave

by dreamer_98



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer_98/pseuds/dreamer_98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chandler finds the bravery to let Kent help him after he becomes injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Favours the Brave

Chandler clenched his jaw, trying to will away the throbbing pain. He desperately wished he could grab his Tiger Balm, although it would be of no help without the use of his left hand.

The team had been in pursuit of a suspect in the case of a recent assault. They'd been warned the man was unstable and appeared to be in possession of a knife.

When they finally tracked him down, Chandler had approached the suspect, trying to reason with him or at the very least get him to drop his weapon. However, he'd taken a step too close, as the man suddenly lashed out with his knife, nicking Chandler's wrist.

Chandler froze in his tracks, initially too stunned to fully register what happened. However, Kent hadn't wasted a moment. He'd grabbed his own handkerchief and pressed it into Chandler's palm. Now they were on their way back to the station with Kent driving Chandler's car.

"We're almost there," he assured his boss. "Keep pressing down."

Chandler silently grimaced. Kent's instruction was pointless, as Chandler knew full well that he needed to keep pressure on the wound. Yet he knew his annoyance was largely due to the pain. The rational part of him knew Kent was only trying to help.

No sooner had they arrived at the station's car park than Chandler began racing towards the restroom. He panted as he approached the sink, rolling up his sleeve that was now soaked with blood. He then began to remove Kent's handkerchief from his palm. The blood had congealed onto the material, making its removal more challenging and causing even more pain. Chandler winced as he peeled the last of it off his hand, revealing a bloody mess. He turned the tap on full blast, sticking his injured hand under the cold water. He knew he needed to keep it under there for several minutes. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nostrils. He desperately wanted to change his shirt, but had no way of doing so until the bleeding stopped.

After a few minutes, he heard a soft knock on the door. He turned his head to see Kent enter the restroom, first aid kit in hand.

Chandler had been so preoccupied with cleaning his wound that he hadn't even thought of a first aid kit. He was grateful that his DC had remembered that important detail.

"Has the bleeding stopped?" Kent asked.

Chandler turned off the water, grabbing a few paper towels to dry off his hand. He could clearly see the gash, but there didn't appear to be any more blood coming out of it.

"It seems that it has," he told Kent. Kent had opened the kit and retrieved the rubbing alcohol and bandages. He unscrewed the top of the bottle as he stepped closer to Chandler. After applying some alcohol to a cloth, Kent gestured for Chandler to hold out his injured hand.

"This is going to sting," Kent warned. Chandler nodded, and Kent gently began dabbing the cut with the cloth. Chandler closed his eyes. By now, he'd almost become numb to the pain. He instead focused on Kent's hands gently caressing his own. They were warm and firm, and somehow the touch helped Chandler to relax.

After he was done applying the ointment, Kent began wrapping Chandler's hand with the gauze.

"Is the suspect in custody?" Chandler asked him.

Kent nodded, continuing his ministration. "Uniforms were able to restrain him. He's been sedated and they've taken him to a holding cell for the night."

"Good," Chandler said simply. He didn't have a doubt that his team would be able to apprehend the suspect, but it was comforting to hear confirmation that all of the chaos was over.

Kent finished bandaging Chandler's hand, cutting off the excess material. "You're all patched up now," he said. "Be sure to keep your hand still to stop the wound from re-opening."

"Thank you, Kent," Chandler said. Kent simply nodded as he packed away the rest of the supplies.

"I mean it," Chandler spoke louder, causing Kent to stop and look back at him. "You didn't hesitate to put my safety in front of you own."

Kent shrugged. "You were the one taking the risk by trying to talk him down. I was just trying to look out for you."

"I know, and I'm truly grateful," Chandler told him. Kent gave him a sheepish smile in return.

Chandler turned back towards the sink, gently picking up the blood-soaked handkerchief. "I'm afraid this is done for," he said apologetically as he handed it back to Kent.

"That's all right," Kent said as he threw it in the bin. "I have a few others at home."

The two men stood in uncomfortable silence for a while, neither unsure of where to look or what to do.

Eventually, Kent cleared his throat. "I've put your keys back in your office. Will you be okay driving home?"

"Yes, I think I can manage," Chandler said.

"Are you sure?" Kent asked. "I'd be happy to give you a lift."

"No, I'll be fine," Chandler insisted. "You should go home. You've done enough for the day."

"All right," Kent said, a note of disappointment in his voice. "Good night, sir."

"Good night," Chandler said as Kent exited the restroom.

His response had been automatic, but he was beginning to regret his decision. Chandler was so accustomed to always going it alone and taking care of himself. He went through most of his life thinking he didn't need anyone's help. Being on the force these past few years had shown him that sometimes relying on other people was necessary, and it didn't make him weak. He just had to be brave enough to admit that he needed help.

He burst open the door, rushing to the incident room where he found Kent putting on his jacket. Kent looked up in surprise to see Chandler standing there.

"On second thought, I would feel better if you drove me back," Chandler said. "That is, if your offer still stands."

Kent smiled. "Of course."

"I'm afraid I don't have much room for a guest," Chandler told him, "but you could sleep on my sofa, if you don't mind."

Chandler was afraid Kent would change his mind at this point. He'd already spent a long day at the station; surely Kent would rather go home and sleep in his own bed.

"It's no problem, sir," Kent insisted. "I've slept in worse places when crashing with my mates."

Chandler gave a small chuckle. "Why don't you start the car while I gather the rest of my things?" he suggested.

After Kent left for the car park, Chandler entered his office and sighed with relief. It had been a big risk for him to ask for help. Most detectives probably wouldn't dream of appearing vulnerable in front of their subordinates. But Chandler trusted Kent. Next to Miles, Kent was someone Chandler knew he could count on if he ever got in a bind.

Chandler's career as DI had been marked by misfortune since the beginning. By anyone's standards, his track record was abysmal. Yet he'd still gained the loyalty of his team. They had supported him through his stumbles, and they accepted him for all his faults.

Chandler started to think that maybe he was pretty fortunate after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **eriah211** for **fandom_stocking** 2014\. Not beta read.
> 
> This fic was inspired by [this lovely work of fan art](http://creature13.deviantart.com/art/160114-427401241).


End file.
